If it hadn't been him on the receiving end of the wake up call, he would have found the whole thing hilarious too. But waking up in a strange place, cold, with no brother, father, or weapon of any kind, the whole thing was fucking annoying and the laughter wasn't helping. Neither was the dog nosing at his hand to be pet while he had more important things to deal with.
"It's not starting out that way," Connor muttered as he gave the approaching woman a wary look. The last he knew, some sketch artist had worked up a composite of the three of them and the local news channels were showing them with the reports of Yakavetta's death. She didn't seem to recognize him. Yet.
She also went straight to the point, a quality that Connor could admire. That and she'd managed to hit the proverbial nail on the head without him having to say a word. Or maybe it was the lack of winter clothing that gave it away. "That would be the former," he replied. "Benches aren't my usual choice of places to sleep. A little too public."